"I can deal with my father," he assures me."Please don't worry about him."
"But I do.If he's going to make your life more difficult..."
"He's not my boss any more, Evie," Nate reminds me."There's not much he can do except give me disapproving looks and tell me that I'm being a fool."
A horrible feeling travels through me in response."He'd tell you that because you love me?"
"He'd tell me that anyway," he responds."He's been telling me similar things for years."
I stared at him, a little confused about why that would be."I didn't realise he disliked me so much."
"I don't think it's about you," he assures me."You shouldn't worry about it."
I'm not sure what to say in response to that.
"Anyway, do you still want to bake?"he asks.
"Of course."
"I just need to finish dealing with the curd first," he says.
"The curd?As in for tart?"
He nods.
"I don't think I've ever made it before."
"I've never suggested it because it needs more than a little patience."
I cross my arms."I'm notthatbad."
"The curd has to drain for at least five hours," he responds."And that's not counting the time the pastry needs to chill."
I let out a sigh."Well normally we don'thavefive hours when we can bake together.You've got everything you need to do, and it's not as if Mama would let me have a whole day to bake either.There are always meetings and lessons she expects me to be at."
"I know," he responds."But you're in luck, because the Queen has requested a curd tart for tomorrow's menu, so we can make one tonight unless you have anything you'd prefer."
"A curd tart sounds good."
"Then you'll be glad to know that there's already pastry resting in the ice house too.So the only thing we'll have to wait for is it to bake," Nate says as he brushes his hand against my back.
"I can be patient," I mutter.
"I know you can."He pauses for a moment before leaning in and kissing my cheek.
Warmth radiates out from the spot and I lean in to him without meaning to."What needs doing?"I ask.
"The first thing we need to do is finish draining the curds," he responds."But that's easy enough."He gestures over to where a cheesecloth is hanging over a bowl of whey.
"What should I do?"
"Just give it a squeeze and then untie the cloth," he says."I'll go get the pastry."
I smile at him before heading over to the hanging cloth and looking at it.I reach out, surprised by how firm the curds feel through the fabric.I ignore that and give it a squeeze.A tiny bit more whey drops into the bowl beneath, but I'm sure the curds are still done.
I untie the cloth from the hook and carry it over to a bowl, dripping tiny bits of whey on my dress.I grimace in response.I should have put on an apron first.Hopefully, it won't be bad enough that one of the maids tells Mama.If she finds out that I've potentially ruined a dress, then she might ban me from the kitchen entirely.
As soon as I've covered myself in a plain white apron, I return to the bowl with the curds and unwrap them from the cheesecloth until they're sitting in the bowl in white clumps.I poke at one of them, making it fall apart.I've eaten curd tart plenty of times, but I'm a little confused about how this is going to make the texture that I know.
